


Electric Pulses In Fake Ice

by ssswampert



Series: Robot Ryan AU [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, M/M, Robot Ryan AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:23:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4271625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssswampert/pseuds/ssswampert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time Geoff was three-fourths of the way done with his own margarita (and still claimed to 'not feel a buzz'), Ryan was giggly--to put it mildly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Electric Pulses In Fake Ice

**Author's Note:**

> this is part of an AU that i'm writing with robotentacles on tumblr. i Love Robots. and i Love Ryan Haywood. the way he acts is also based off of personal experience so this should be fun, heh. ALSO also, this is my first (published) bit of RTAH fic, haha.  
> based on what graham said on skype amidst a bunch of other headcanons: "Team Gents party nights where Ryan allows himself to get drunk on oil and e-shocks that are just electric pulses in small ice-replicating cubes that mess with his processors a little to stimulate the faux sensation of inhibition loss. "

The first time Geoff convinced Ryan to try E-shocks, they were at a Mexican restaurant that both was incredibly dimly lit for the type of restaurant it was and carried alcoholic type drinks for both Organic Beings and Nonorganic beings.

Ryan ordered what the restaurant called a Robot Rocker (which he rolled his eyes and scoffed at, calling the name 'archaic and silly') and Geoff got a large margarita, frozen. Their waiter said, "You're aware that's forty-five ounces, right, sir?"

"Yeah, I know. That's why I ordered it," Geoff replied, winking at Ryan. Jack snorted around his taco. The waiter took Geoff's ID and asked for the numbers in Ryan's serial number that act as his age, and then scurried off to the back of the restaurant.

Ryan fidgeted with the tumbler of oil in front of him, stirring the ice cube replications with his straw. He'd heard of other Nonorganic Beings--including Partially Organic Beings, who put them in alcohol instead of in oil--getting addicted to the E-shocks and wondered if it would have the same effect on him as it would on Partially Organic Beings.

"Dude, relax," Geoff said, cutting into Ryan's thoughts. "I can practically smell the smoke from your overthinking. It's just ice replicators with little shockies in them."

Ryan looked up, frowning. "I know that." The ice replicators already in his drink clinked to a slow stop as he stilled his hand. "...'Shockies' though, Geoff?"

Geoff stuck his tongue out and picked at the lettuce left over from his enchilada. "I don't know what the fuck they're actually called. I just know it's fake ice with lil' bits of electricity in them and they mess with you so you feel like how Organic Beings feel when they're drunk."

He felt a bit silly (as much as he could within his programming parameters) asking, but he couldn't help it. "How will I know what that feels like?"

The oldest gent let out a high pitched giggle. "Trust me, Ryan, you'll know."

"All... right..." Ryan replied cautiously.

Their waiter chose that moment to return. He set an unsurprisingly large tumbler filled with green slush in front of Geoff and a significantly smaller tumbler filled with a light liquid and a significant amount of plastic cubes in front of Ryan.

Jack made a face. "What smells like old pizza in dish soap?" He leaned over and sniffed at Ryan's drink. "Oh. Okay, that's it. Must have oregano and lavendar oils in it."

"So this isn't appetizing smelling at all to you?" Ryan questioned, tilting his head.

"Nope," Jack shook his head. "Not a bit. Then again, last time I had anything to do with oregano oil, it was because your neck started scraping."

Ryan pursed his lips. "Oh, right," he replied. "I knew this smelled familiar." The ice replicators in his drink alternated pulsing with gentle green and purple lights. He lifted the tumbler and took a sip. "Peanut oil's in it, too," he said.

-

By the time Geoff was three-fourths of the way done with his own margarita (and still claimed to 'not feel a buzz'), Ryan was giggly--to put it mildly.

"So..." Jack started, phone out and focused on Ryan. "How do you feel?"

"I feel _so nice_ , Jack!" Ryan replied, almost a perfect mimicry of Geoff's voice.

"You fucker!" Geoff jumped in. "I don't sound like that!"

"No, you don't," Jack agreed. "I think he's wasted, Geoff." Ryan giggled and slid to the side, leaning his head on Jack's shoulder.

"I feel _so_ nice!" he reiterated.

Geoff muffled a laugh of his own. "He's robo-smashed, Jack. And we get to be the lucky two to see it first."

"Should we RT Life this?" Jack asked, having flipped his phone camera to selfie-mode. "I think we should wait til Ryan is sober and ask him."

"We should totally RT Life this. But for now it's time to go home," Geoff replied firmly. Jack gently pushed Ryan so he was sitting up straight and patted his shoulder. "Ain't it, bud," he directed at Ryan.

"Ray is so cool," Ryan replied instead. "Have you seen him play the games?"

"Yeah, we've seen him play the games," Jack said gently. Geoff laughed raucously, not even trying to hold it back.

"You owe me twenty bucks, Jack! He fuckin' does like Ray!" the older gent shrilled, clutching at his sides.

"Yeah, yeah," Jack grunted, managing to get Ryan out of the booth and standing. Geoff grabbed the tickets from the end of the table and sorted them out. "I'll get Ryan's. I think he's too drunk to think straight."

Ryan giggled again. "I am so not straight. The not straightest! The bisexualest probably!"

-

When Monday rolled around, Geoff was still laughing at the drunken mess Ryan's first try of the E-shocks was. "Man, Ryan got super wasted this weekend with me 'n Jack," he said in at the beginning of the first video that week.

Ryan groaned. "Yeah, and you were no better," he snarked, rolling his eyes. "Mister Forty-Five Ounce Margarita."


End file.
